


Christmas Hell

by HMSquared



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Character Death, Christmas, Crying, Exposition, Grief/Mourning, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25082347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMSquared/pseuds/HMSquared
Summary: The SAS wakes up to some devastating news.
Kudos: 17





	Christmas Hell

On Christmas morning, Mike was fast asleep in bed. He’d spent the previous evening with his fellow Operators, serving as the designated driver. James was the worst of them all, falling off after two beers. Mike had driven him home, shaking his head as his friend sang along with the radio.

The phone rang. Eyes opening, he squinted. Reaching over to the bedside table, Mike saw Seamus’ number and picked up.

“Merry Christmas, mate.” And then he sat up, listening to the Scotsman’s words. His initial happiness turned to something else. “I’ll call James.”

Mike took a deep breath, watching as the Rainbow logo passed by his left window. The gates to the base closed behind him and he found a parking spot.

He felt numb. It didn’t seem real. They’d spoken only two weeks ago. Things had gotten better.

Seamus’ best up Land Rover was a few spots over. Getting out, Mike adjusted his jacket and exhaled. He walked toward the glass doors and opened them.

Seamus was pacing in the lobby. He was expressionless, staring at the floor. Looking up at the sound of the doors, he sighed. Mark crossed the room to give his friend a hug, shaking.

“I am so sorry.” Seamus nodded, briefly shutting his eyes.

“Gustave called me an hour ago. He spent the night, apparently.”

“So...this wasn’t unexpected?” The Scotsman shook his head. As Mike swore under his breath, the doors opened again.

James’ eyes were red. He’d been crying on the way over, fingers twitching. Seamus patted him on the back, a tiny sob escaping the older's lips.

“Is Gustave here now?” Mike asked, watching them break apart. Seamus shook his head as James moved to hug the other attacker.

“He went to get coffee and give us space.” The three friends looked at each other. They all felt like shit.

The hallways were silent. Seamus kept an arm about James as they walked, Mike slightly ahead of them. None of them could process it.

The door to the infirmary was closed. Mike placed a hand on the knob and looked over.

“Are we ready?” They nodded, James pulling away from Seamus’ grip. Taking another breath, Mike opened the door.

The infirmary looked undisturbed. The implements had been cleaned, most of the paperwork filed. Lying on the middle bed, seemingly sleeping, was one Mark Chandler.

Mike stepped forward, finally shaking. James let out another sob and buried his head in Seamus’ shoulder. The Scotsman looked like he was about to be sick.

“What happened?” Mike whispered. Seamus shook his head.

“Apparently there were complications from the removal and some of the shrapnel moved toward his heart.”

“Damn.” Mike winced, trying not to dwell. “Mark didn’t deserve that.”

“He was gonna be the long runner,” James muttered. “While we all lost our memories and shriveled, he would do marathons at age 60.” The three Operators tearfully laughed and shook their heads.

They all remembered the incident well. Some nut job had strapped on a bomb vest and forced his hostages to take up arms. Thankfully, none of them had gotten hurt.

In a moment of frustration, the bomber had detonated the vest. Mark saw it happen and dove across the concrete. He absorbed bits of shrapnel in his legs and chest; at the very least, he would’ve been paralyzed.

Gustave was forced to remove three large pieces of metal from his chest. He’d kept Mark for observation, watching every bit of movement. The thing that killed him was too deep to remove.

They covered his body with the bedsheet and walked back through the hallways. Harry would notify the family, and James would probably go with. There’d be a funeral; someone would speak. Maybe Seamus and Mike could say something special.

It was snowing when they got outside. The three friends looked up in quiet awe, unsure what would happen next.

Mike reached out and wrapped them in a hug. They could feel Mark there too, wishing his brothers good luck.

James was the first to pull away. Muttering a good-bye, he stumbled back to his car. Seamus watched him go, then patted Mike on the shoulder and left. 

He remained in the snow, flakes falling on his head. Mike didn’t know what the future would bring, nor how long it would take him to feel normal.


End file.
